


A  Sticky Business

by deanandsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandsam/pseuds/deanandsam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brothers find themselves attached closer than they would like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam panted heavily in the aftermath of a kill that had taken a toll of his physical and mental energies.  
He looked down at his brother sprawled awkwardly beneath the gnarled tree that the swamp creature had hurled him violently against.

Dean had once commented on Sam's unique manner of winding down after a kill, saying that his panting was absolutely normal  
for one who had the puppiest puppy-dog eyes on the planet, at which Sam had duly let loose his most annoyed expression  
causing Dean's smirk to become even deeper, as if his brother's bitch-face was the ultimate proof of Sam's dog-like attributes.

 

Sam cracked a fond smile at the memory as he stretched out his left arm, hand opened wide, waiting for Dean to take it and pull himself up.

 

His big brother was completely covered in slime, for he had taken the brunt of the Quagmire's attack, and for an instant Sam was transported  
back to one other time that Dean had been similarly covered from head to foot in foul-smelling putrid goo; it had been when his brother  
had come for him at Stanford and they had hunted the "Woman in White".

God, they had been so young and innocent then, raised in the hunting life, already knowing and having experienced so much, but unaware  
of the destiny that awaited them; eternally afraid of losing each other; not suspecting that their bodies had already been marked down  
for possession by Michael and Lucifer and that death was fundamentally the least of their worries.

 

Dean's right hand made contact with Sam's, the touch pulling his thoughts back to the here and now, and he clasped it firmly, his long fingers  
closing around it, his powerful shoulders flexing as he made ready to take on the non indifferent weight of his dazed older brother; to pull him up.

 

"Dean, are you okay, man?" he asked as his sibling came shakily to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Sammy. Stop fussing; it'll take more than some slippery gunk-shooter to take out the great Dean Winchester."

 

Sam lingered a instant until his brother seemed steady enough on his feet before releasing his supporting hand….or at least he tried to, as  
the spiteful appendage wouldn't obey the direct command from his brain, and stayed stubbornly clasped around Dean's hand.

"Dean…, " he croaked, his voice panicky.

 

His eyes met his brother's as understanding washed over them and they tried to separate their hands, but they seemed to be well and truly stuck together.

"What the hell, dude; get your giant paw offa' my hand," Dean hissed threateningly, images of what he and Sam holding hands could provoke in onlookers.

"I'm trying, Dean," Sam replied, annoyed at his brother's tone of voice." How was I supposed to know that the Quagmire's slime  
was super glue in disguise? There was hardly any lore on this freaking thing."

 

But try as they might, their hands were well and truly stuck together and wouldn't budge even as they exerted all their forces,  
something which the Winchesters had in abundance!

Sam was finally the first to surrender to the impossibility of freeing themselves and he griped at his brother as he continued  
to yank away at the offending hand, almost unbalancing Sam with the force of his pull.

 

Then when he saw Dean unsheath his knife to try and prise their hands apart he knew he had to call a stop.

"Dean don't!" he yelled alarmed. "Put that knife away! There's nothing we can do here. We've still got to burn the son-of-a-bitch's body.  
We can worry about this later."

"Are you crazy Sam? How are we gonna do anything with our hands stuck together like this?" Dean replied waving the knife around as he sounded off.

 

"Well," Sam went for a calm tone of voice, trying to smooth down Dean's ruffled feathers. "I've got my right hand and you've got your left, so we'll just have to work in tandem until we find a way to solve this little problem. There's no way we're going to get our hands separated by just pulling on them,so let's finish the job and head back to the motel and see what we can come up with."

 

He could feel the tense muscles in Dean's hand relaxing as he pondered the common sense in Sam's words and resheathed his knife.

"Right, come on then. Let's send this crap off to Purgatory or wherever these fuglies go, and try to creep back to our room without anyone seeing us like this," he grumbled.

"You realise that I'll have to drive my Baby one handed. She won't be happy about that!"

 

Sam just rolled his eyes as he poured the accelerant over the body and waited for his very 'attached' brother to crank up the cigarette-lighter left-handedly, not commenting as Dean had to try innumerable times before succeeding and throwing it onto the creature's gruesome body, watching in satisfaction as it burst into flames.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

As the brothers stood by waiting for the flaming corpse to be reduced to ashes, they silently contemplated the situation in which they found themselves; the sensation of their hands solidly clasped together like four-year olds, making them both feel oddly self-conscious.

 

Sam was the first to break the embarrassing hush that had settled over them.

"Come on, Dean. Let's get the Hell out of here. We've got to solve this problem, as soon as possible. There's no way we're gonna be able to hunt like this."

"Right with you, Sammy!" Dean echoed fervently as he bent down to pick up his gear and in so doing inadvertently yanking Sam off balance, causing him to practically fall over.

 

"Dean, be careful!" Sam grunted, "if we're gonna get through this, then we're gonna have to work together, like conjoined twins."

"You mean Siamese twins, don't you Sammy," Dean quipped, the funny side of the situation now getting the upper hand.

Sam pursed his lips and continued on patiently," No, I meant CONJOINED twins, doofus. First we go together to pick up your stuff and then mine. Got that!"

"Yeah, Sammy! I'm not an idiot, you know. I get it."

Sam's eye-roll was more than eloquent to reveal what he thought of his brother's mental capacities.

 

"Okay, I'll go first and you bring up the rear," Dean announced when they had gathered all their gear.

"And just what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you walk one step behind, I can pretend I'm holding hands with some hot chick instead of with a Sasquatch of a brother!"

 

"Yeah, right!" Sam huffed as he pushed past, striding vigorously on ahead and taking the lead, dragging his brother behind him." I've got the longer legs, so it's you who's gonna have to keep up with me and you are definitely NOT my type Dean."

"You have a type Sammy?" Dean smirked as he trotted along a step behind his taller brother.

"Yeah, female, intelligent and good-looking."

"Two out of three ain't bad, Sam," Dean quipped smugly, as he contiued. "Man; just think what a field day Becky and her weirdo fan-writing friends would say if they could see us now," he continued.. "They would be…"

"Dean,... just...shut up! I don't want to hear any more. Five minutes ago you were getting ready to cut our hands free with your knife and now you're all airy-fairy about it," Sam cut him off bitchily.

"Hey, I'm just trying to lighten the atmosphere, bro."

"Well don't try so hard, Okay!" Sam huffed, for Becky's pawing and her habit of sending him meaningful looks were not amongst his better memories!

 

The sleek lines of the Impala came into view and the brothers threw their gear into the trunk, Dean with his left and Sam with his right.

"I wish I could wash off some of this goo before getting into my baby," Dean lamented wrinkling his nose at the sight and smell of his slime covered clothes, then hastily shut up as he remembered just what washing up would entail with his kid brother holding on to his hand.

No, he determined fiercely, this would have to be resolved even quicker. He was NOT taking a shower with Sam glued to him!

 

"Come on Sam. Let's get out of here pronto!" Dean ordered as he went to open the door of the Impala.

"Dean! Conjoined twins! Remember?" Sam reminded him patiently.

Dean turned, as the meaning of Sam's words hit him.

The momentary good feeling he had previously exhibited, disappeared completely as he let off a string of colourful curses gleaned from the frequentation of innumerable smoke-filled bars.

 

"If another Quagmire crosses my path, I swear to God I'll make it suffer a thousand-fold for this little trick," Dean hissed, as he pondered on how best to get into his car

 

"Right, we'll have to get in through the passenger door," he decided as he dragged Sam round to the other side.

"I'll slide across the seat and you get in after me."

He heard Sam's huff as he trailed along behind him. "You're lucky that it wasn't our other hands that got stuck together, Dean; otherwise you could never have driven back."

Dean halted for the second it took him to visualize the image, before answering

" No, Sam, it's you who's lucky, 'cause I'd still be driving but you'd be doing some running alongside the car." Dean retorted smugly, getting a full on bitch face from his younger brother.

 

Finally ensconced behind the wheel after their acrobatics of getting in with their hands joined, and thanking the fates that his baby didn't have one of those shift-sticks poking up from the floor, Dean felt a little bit better; at least there were no prying eyes inside the Impala.

He fumbled about trying to insert the key into the steering column with his left hand, when he felt Sam take it from him.

 

"While we're like this you gotta pretend I'm your right hand," his brother reminded him, as the Impala's engine roared to life under Sam's touch, giving Dean a chance at rolling his eyes too!

The ride back to the motel was as quiet as the tomb, Dean's left hand on the wheel, and Sam's right fiddling with his phone, while their other two hands lay awkwardly abandoned together on the bench seat between them, pointedly ignored by both boys.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Impala pulled to an unusually abrupt halt outside the motel room, Dean doing acrobatics with his left hand to bring the car to a stop, preferring to ignore the two clasped hands on the seat between them, and any help from his brother's free hand.

 

Sam stole a glance at his sibling's face.

The expression boded nothing good, and he prepared himself for a Dean that was going to be impossible to live with until their little problem was solved.

Right on cue he started to snark.

 

"Come on Sam, slide your giant-sized ass off the seat and let me out, and then go bury your nose pronto in your research until you find out how to get us separated. Being Siamese twins with a Sasquatch was never one of my childhood ambitions.

Get a move on before someone sees us." he ordered ungracefully.

 

Sam felt his own temper rising as he exited the Impala and waited for his brother who was pulling himself awkwardly from the passenger seat.

"What the hell, Dean! What's with the attitude! You'd think I'd done this on purpose or something! The next time some fugly throws you against a tree, I'll think twice about holding out a hand to haul up your ungrateful ass."

 

Sam turned away impatiently and if he hadn't been fettered to his brother, would have stomped off in a huff but as it happened he unfortunately came face to face with a couple of grinning teens who were staring at them in amusement.

 

"Aw, aren't they cute. They're having a lover's tiff," one said to the other as they delved into a bag of potato crisps, a worldy-wise smirk on their faces.

"Naa. They're holding hands so it can't be that big a thing," the other answered.

 

Sam's face took on a becoming shade of pink but he tried to keep his body between the young girls and Dean.

His brother's temper was already at red alert over the whole business, and he didn't want him to erupt volcano-style at the girls' words.

 

Alas, Dean was just in the mood to take out his anger on something or someone, and he aimed an annihilating, drop dead glare at the two unfortunates.

He didn't even get as far as opening his mouth, as whatever it was that the two girls were going to add, died on their lips and they scurried away terrified, mumbling as they went, but loud enough for the Winchesters to hear.

 

"God, I feel sorry for the tall guy. The other one is a psychopath. Did you see his eyes," the blond squeaked.

"Yeah, a born killer that one, and covered in all that yuck! Maybe he's just buried some poor dude in the swamps."

"Oh, God!"

 

Sam glared at his brother.

"Did you have to scare the shit out of them, Dean? They were only kids!"

"They don't know how near they were to their last day on Earth, man!" Dean grunted angrily.

 

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, Dean; don't you think you're taking this far too seriously? Think what would have happened if it were our legs that got stuck together."

"Shut up, Sam. That is an image I can really do without,"he bitched, as he yanked his recalcitrant brother unceremoniously into the shelter of the motel room.

 

Once safe and sound inside, far from prying eyes, Dean's anger abated slightly.

"Right," he griped at his brother. "Wegotta get rid of this goo, you get to work."

"There's nothing I'd like better, doofus, but, if you want a shower, you're gonna have to put up with my company, remember!" Sam waggled their joined hands in front of his brother's nose, currently covered with puce-coloured dried mucous.

 

Dean surrenderer to the unavoidable as he sifted clumsily through his duffel with his left hand, almost making it tip over on to the floor, glancing up ruefully at his little brother as Sam silently brought up his free hand to hold the bag steady.

"Thanks, Sammy; I'm sorry I bitched at you man. I know it's not your fault. It's just..."

"It's okay Dean, I know you were just letting off steam," said Sam, his soft eyes full of understanding.

"Right," Dean answered, finding himself with a lump in his throat at his good fortune in having a kid brother like his Sammy, always ready to forgive and forget.

Time stood still for a nano-second as they held each other's meaningful gaze.

 

Dean was the first to look away, not wanting to chip any corners off his no chick-flick moments rule.

He collected his change of clothing and went towards the bathroom, Sam one step behind.

 

"Um, I'll just turn away while you clean up, okay!" he added.

Dean just grunted as he drew the shower curtain as far as it could go, and started to throw out his uber-stinky clothes.

 

"Pass the soap, Sammy. I'm gonna have to use the whole bottle to get this Quagmire gunk off, otherwise no chick is gonna come within a hundred yards of me."

"Well, I doubt any chick is gonna come near you anyway until you've got another guy hanging on to you hand," Sam observerd with unexpectedly dry humour.

"Right, yeah; Definitely no chicks until you get your giant paw off of me."

"Wise decision, Dean I'm not really into threesomes, especially if you're a part of them!"

"Yuck, Sammy, that's the second image that you've given me today that I just don't want to see."

 

As the shower hissed down the blessedly hot water, Dean soaped himself up one-handedly, including Sam's conjoined paw in the big wash-up.

Sam waited stoically on the other side of the curtain; he felt the hot water and peach-scented suds slither on to his hand and he perked up as he sensed one of his fingers becoming mobile in Dean's grasp.

 

Could it be? What if the remedy was so simple?

"Dean!" he yelled. "I think my hand is coming unstuck. Do you feel anything?"

He felt Dean flex his fingers slightly.

 

"Yeah. I think i can wiggle a couple of fingers," Dean replied excitedly.

 

Sam could feel his brother pouring the whole bottle of shower gel onto their joined hands, and with an almighty "shhhcluck"...their hands jumped free and he retrieved his from behind the plastic curtain, relieved that it had taken so little to separate what seemed like an unbreakable glue-job.

 

The younger Winchester sighed happily as he exited the bathroom; he had been spared from having to pore over hours of research with Dean hanging over his shoulder. He felt as if he had been released from prison. Tonight was a night for celebrating, Sam decided.

 

Naturally Dean had been of the same idea, and the brothers found themselves completely in synch as they sat at a table surrounded by  
beers and bar-food.

Sam looked on amused as Dean's wandering eyes sized up the female companionship on offer.

 

"I don't think you would have been sitting here so shit-faced happy if that peach-scented gel hadn't un-glued our hands, Dean!" Sam laughed ironically.

Dean's face fell for a moment as he imagined the scene.

"Right, Sammy. We would have been holed up in our room until you figured out how to separate us, but I just wanna say, bro, that if I was ever to be stuck to any guy like that again, you're the only one I would want it to be," he finished off cheekily.

 

"Thanks Dean, I think!" Sam frowned, but he was unable to hold it for more than a second, shaking his head at the gleefully idiotic expression on his big brother's face and breaking out in a toothy smile of his own.

 

His brother was an idiot, but he was his idiot and he loved him

The End.


End file.
